Failure
by Honeyfish
Summary: Lamb got her Utopian after all, and Delta has been left behind. Fortunately, he isn't alone.
1. Chapter 1

_This was written as a backstory piece for a character account I have for Delta over on livejournal, but I liked it enough to put it here. Whether I'll do anything else with it remains to be seen._

_-Nir_

"Back again so soon, Delta?"

The modified turret hovered in front of him, its violent running lights making dizzy patterns in the air. Alex had certainly wasted no time constructing another after Delta had destroyed the first.

"No, no, don't bother explaining. I heard the announcement. We all did. Shame you're out of the job, now, but that's the way things work sometimes."

Delta could only gaze dolefully at the single bloodshot eye on the turret's screen. Alex was insane, but he was clever. Maybe he had already worked out what Delta was here for. Returning to Fontaine Futuristics had not presented as much of a challenge as it had the first time. The Family no longer had any reason to attack him. Their savior had come, and her protector was powerless to reverse her awakening. He was dying, slowly, and with the knowledge that he'd failed. Just as Lamb would have it.

"Say, you don't look quite as perky as I remember. Broken bond getting you down?" The tone was facetious, almost singsong. Delta growled, but any weight the threat might've held was negated by the fact that he could only stand with the support of the wall next to him. Alex tsked. "Epsilon! Theta!" He shrieked suddenly, the turret whirling away from Delta. "I know you're nearby! I have trackers installed in all your suits! Stop lollygagging and come assist your coworker!"

Two pairs of hands took Delta by the arms. His fellow defunct Alphas. Only a handful of them must remain after the carnage of several hours earlier. How long would it be before he was like them? Just a few miles further down the road to madness. The one on his right stood lopsided, hunched from the weight of its suit, its breath gurgling wetly in its chest. Its grip on Deltas' arm was tight, but its fingers trembled. Somehow this same dying shell had once run at him, frenzied and full of bloodlust that it couldn't comprehend.

"Well, well, well…" The huge water tank cast a bloodred glow over the tarnished machinery. Alex pressed his face to the glass, peering down at the trio of Alphas. "I certainly hope you aren't expecting any sort of praise, laddo. You let me live when you could have cooked me like a strip of bacon, yes, but you've destroyed thousands of dollars worth of equipment and slaughtered a good portion of my workforce. Now you find yourself strapped to the electric chair, this time at _my_ mercy…" He trailed his fingers down the glass, carving a line into the reddish algae that coated the inside of the tank. "But you were always such a good employee, and you'd be no use to me dead. What do you say to a massive injection of little Eleanor's pheromones? We could whip up such a thing, if we really had to, but it might do little more than buy you time. You're already a hopeless addict. It would only be adding more on top of the ADAM you already need to function. Do you wish to live like that, Delta?"

Delta pulled away from the other Alphas' grip, managing to stand under his own power long enough to bow his head in the mutant's direction. It would be difficult, he knew, and he would most likely never see Eleanor again, but as long as he was living, he still had a chance.

Behind the glass, Alex grinned, baring his jagged teeth. "Well then, Delta, I do believe we have a deal."


	2. Chapter 2

_I couldn't sleep last night, so I wrote this part._

_To answer your question, dear reviewer, it's likely that the events in this timeline went very differently, and Delta never found himself in that situation in the first place.  
_

_-Nir_

**6 Months Later**

In the otherwise dim indigo corridors, the bright red glow of a Gatherer's Garden was unmistakable. Delta quickly set to work, wedging the point of his drill against a seam in the side of the metal casing that he'd found to be a universal weak point. These things had to be made tough to keep desperate splicers out, but whoever had designed them had overlooked the possibility of a desperate Big Daddy.

He let the drill rotate slowly; gradually pushing it through until he'd made a hole big enough to get his fingers into. With that accomplished he dropped the drill unceremoniously onto the ground and set to work peeling back the skin of the vending machine. The drill clattered heavily on the tiled ground, but Delta wasn't particularly worried about being heard. There weren't a great number of splicers left. Lamb had taken most of the Family with her on her ascension, and those that had chosen to interrupt Delta when he'd raided the Gatherer machines in the past had since been dealt with.

The outer casing was only the beginning. The precious ADAM stored inside was held in an electrified vial. The ADAM needed to purchase a plasmid was greater than the ADAM needed to construct it. Little by little the excess goop was collected and reclaimed by Ryan Industries, or at least that was the idea. Delta doubted anybody had been around to collect the leftovers in a long time. He peered into the hole he'd made, illuminating the inside of the machine with the soft golden glow of his porthole. The ADAM vial hung amid a nest of wires and tubes, like an egg sack in an insect's hive. There was no need to test if it was live or not. If he was lucky, the battery would be dead, and he'd be free to rip it out. If not, he'd get shocked. Badly. But he'd gone through worse, and he needed this. If by some miracle it killed him, well, the chambers were still keyed to his DNA. He'd be back to try again in no time.

He seized the vial, and with it the familiar sensation of having his insides melted into a fizzy pulp. It was too late to do anything but grit his teeth and pull, so he did, bracing himself against the machine with his free hand and struggling to keep his spasming limbs steady. Eventually the vial came free in a shower of blue-white sparks, sending Delta sprawling back into a pile of rotting wooden crates. He lay there for a few minutes, until the numbness faded from his limbs to be replaced with broken slats of wood digging into his back and legs.

It'd been only a week since he'd gotten another dose of Eleanor's pheromones. They weren't like the ADAM. ADAM burned like uncut liquor, while the pheromones were like cool water poured over that burn, soothing the ever-present anxiety that dug itself into his mind as his Little Sister got further and further away. He wondered if she was happy, up there. No, that was a silly question. Of course she was. She was programmed to be. Just as he was programmed to love her to the point that he would die in her absence. And who knew? Maybe she really was making the world a better place, and he'd been wrong to try and prevent this. He doubted he would ever know. Eleanor would never return to Rapture, but for her, he would survive. She'd gone through all the trouble to return him to life in the first place, even if he ultimately hadn't been able to save her.

He sat up, relieving his spine and ribs of the crates' sharp angles, then fished an empty hypodermic needle from his pocket. He'd lost weight. The pressure of his helmet and air tanks dug uncomfortably into his shoulders. Hopeless addict, Alex had called him. As if it had been Delta's choice to become dependent on this awful stuff, but he'd learned long ago that it was useless to shake his fist at the underwater sky in the unfairness of it all. There was only survival now. It didn't matter why or how he was here, only that he owed it to Eleanor to be there if she ever needed him, or if anybody needed him. He could still try to make something of his broken existence. Help those who were still human.

As always the ADAM stung as he allowed it into his veins. Hunger, pain, exhaustion. All just proof he was still alive and sane. Still human.


	3. Chapter 3

The sudden squeal of radio static jerked Delta out of the thin slumber he'd just settled into. Half-convinced it was his exhausted mind playing tricks on him, he closed his eyes again, shifting on top of the old mattress he'd fished out of a dumpster. In this suit it was rare for him to find a sleeping position he was comfortable in, with the internal tubing of the life-support system digging into him at every angle. Whoever had designed it hadn't put much consideration into the wearer's comfort.

He was just nodding off again when the static returned in full force. "DELTA," it shrieked. He growled in complaint, pawing at the area of his helmet where his radio's speaker was located, his movements clumsy in his half-awake state.

"Don't you use that tone with me, Herr Delta." The radio scolded. Delta lowered his hand, his exhaustion forgotten. That voice. At least this time he knew he hadn't been dead for a decade. Hopefully.

The voice continued, terse. "Good to see you've managed to stay alive. I was afraid I'd have made the trip for nothing. There is a bathysphere docking station only a short distance from your current location. I will wait for you there. Will this be a problem?"

Delta groaned, not savoring the idea of a late-night trek, but beneath his physical discomfort he felt a sharp prickle of excitement. Tenenbaum. She'd come from the surface. She might know what was happening with Eleanor. Maybe she'd even come to take him out of this place. He'd have to have been dying to miss this chance. Stiffly he got to his feet, picking up his rivet gun on the way. It had been ages since he'd actually fired it, but its weight was comforting in his arms.

The bathysphere bay was pitch black, cut harshly by the lights on Delta's helmet. As he stepped onto the docking area around the pool of water, the lights inside the sphere flicked on, illuminating the round portholes along the side. With a hiss of depressurization the door on the front slid open. Delta hefted the rivet gun, not exactly expecting a trap but knowing it never hurt to be prepared.

He instantly recognized the woman who stepped out, though some unknown strain had worn her down even in the year since he'd seen her last. The smile that crept across her drawn face at the sight of him shaved that year away instantly. Delta dropped his gun and walked over, holding his hands to his chest. The first time the glass had been in the way, but now, he could touch her if he wanted. Even kill her. She must trust him. Maybe Eleanor had told her what he'd done.

"It's been a while, Herr Delta." Her voice was softer than it had been on the radio. He answered with a quiet lowing noise and bowed his head. She reached out and took one of his massive fingers, pulling his hand away from his body. "There is no need for that. I know you will not hurt me. Come, now. We've much work to do."

Gently Delta pulled away, looking back at the doorway he'd entered through. Doctor Alexander would wonder when he didn't show up for his treatment. Would he worry? Was there time to tell him?

Maybe they could come back. They had the bathysphere. Alex would understand. He had to.

Tenenbaum tugged at his hand again. He turned back to her, highlighting the angles of her face with the light of his porthole. She lightly touched the metal beside it.

"Perhaps it is time you no longer had to carry this burden." She said softly, letting her fingers trail from his helmet to the rough material covering his chest. "Your daughter has grown up. Now it is time for you to become your own person, and take back what this city has stolen from you."


End file.
